It's Gonna Be A Happy? New Year
by electrakitty74
Summary: It's Thanksgiving Break after Angel's death and Collins has too much time to think.


The stack of papers seemed to have become larger and harder to handle since he left the subway station, and now they slipped from his hands—again—as he fumbled for the right key. He didn't bother to pick them up, just found the key, put it into the lock, opened the door and kicked the wayward pages into the apartment. Sparkle, the big black cat he had yet to learn to love as Angel had, eyed the open door with more than a little interest. He had seemed eager to escape in the past few weeks.

"Don't even think about it, cat." Collins put his foot in Sparkle's face deterring any further thoughts of freedom. The cat glared at him as only cats do, and limped off to hide somewhere in the apartment.

With a sigh, Collins collapsed on the sofa, glad for the short respite from classes, even if it was only a long weekend. He sat like this for a long time, eyes half closed, tears only a short way off, and drifted in the past. After ten minutes or so, he heard a small rattling from the bedroom. He ignored it and kept his eyes closed. Damned cat was up to something again. He could not, however, ignore the crash that followed. With a heavy sigh, he stood and went into the bedroom to see what the cat had destroyed.

Angel's favorite floor lamp, which usually stood in the corner, now lay sprawled across the scarred hardwood floor, its jaunty scarf filter fallen off, the bulb broken. He went to pick it up, and stopped when he saw glittering rhinestones sitting amongst the broken glass. Angel's tiara. He bent to pick it up, and the tears which had been threatening all day broke loose afresh.

------

"Collins, honey, have you seen my other boot?"

"Where did you last put it?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be looking for it, would I?"

With a smile and a sigh, Collins left the bathroom without putting in his cufflinks. He headed down the short hallway to the bedroom. Angel was half-dressed in yet another of her fantastic creations (he was glad to see that their shower curtain had not been sacrificed in vain), wearing one pink platform boot, kneeling on the floor peering under the bed. He smiled at her crawling around on the floor. She was going to ruin her wonderful tights if she wasn't careful. He looked around the room for a moment or two, then on a whim, closed the bedroom door and looked behind. Aha!

"Here's your boot, baby. Get up off the floor, you're gonna kill those tights."

He took her hand and helped her stand up, a difficult feat while wearing one tall platform boot.  
"Thank you." She took the boot and favored him with a smile and a kiss. He kissed her back, long and slow, his hand slipping under her new dress, around her small waist, playing with the hook on her skirt. She broke the kiss then.

"Not now, love. We're going to be late as it is."

"So what's a few more minutes?"

"I need to finish getting dressed, and so do you, by the looks of things." She flashed him another of her brilliant smiles and moved away from him, back to her vanity. She sat down, put on the second boot, zipped it, then straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror.

"I think I'll be a blonde tonight, what do you think?"

"I think you're beautiful and I love you." She smiled again and picked up the long blonde wig from its Styrofoam head. She put it on her own head, adjusted it carefully, and looked at herself again.

"Yeah, this is good with this dress, don't you think?"

"Perfect." He watched her put on her lipstick and mascara, his own preparations momentarily forgotten. She picked up her tiara from the vanity and set it on top of her blonde wig. She looked back at him.

"What do you think? Tiara or no?"

"Umm. . .I'd say no. It might be a little much."  
"Honey, you can't talk about me and say 'a little much.' I am too much or not at all." He laughed. She was right. "But maybe you're right. I am Pussy Galore tonight, not Miss America."

"Tomorrow night you'll be Miss America." He bent to kiss the top of her head.

"And you—you still need to go get yourself dressed. I'm not going out in all this splendor without my Bond." She took off the tiara and hung it on the lamp next to the vanity. "You don't even have your jacket on yet. And where are those sunglasses I bought for you? You should wear those tonight." He left her to her finishing touches and went in search of his sunglasses and jacket. He decided against the cufflinks in the end, leaving his shirt sleeves loose. He located and put on his hat and sat down on the sofa to wait for her. A few minutes later, she emerged, smelling of lavender and nail polish and looking more radiant than even he had believed possible. His breath caught and he stood and moved to her.

"Wow." He went to take her hand.

"Honey, my nail polish is still wet. Wait just a minute 'til it's dry." She waved her hands several times in the air then tested her little fingernail. "Almost there, one more second." She waved her hands again and blew on the nails of her right hand. Following suit, Collins took her left hand and blew on those nails. This made her laugh again.

"Dry yet?" He continued to blow on one at a time. She laughed as she tried to continue drying her nails. Finally, she tested the little finger again.

"Good. Finally dry! Let's go!" She folded her left hand around Collins' right and picked up her purse from the floor. "'Bye Sparkle! Happy New Year!" She opened the front door and they went out.

------

Collins wept as he carefully swept the pieces of glass into the dustpan. He knew he should finish the semester at NYU, but he just couldn't stay here any longer. Maybe he could go back to MIT, or maybe UCSD, whatever, he just had to get away from her apartment, her things. Meeting Angel had been the single best thing to ever happen to him. Losing her was the most impossible.


End file.
